This is a Story About Control
by GayAsKurtHummel
Summary: Sebastian is out of control. Hurting Blaine was just the final straw. His behavior's been erratic, he's been popping pills like they're candy, he's been hooking up with a different guy every night (most of them older men). He's constantly late to rehearsals, and when he's there he's belligerent. Warning for dub con, underage alcohol and drug abuse, and a suicide attempt.


**In response to a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme.**

_Sebastian is out of control. Hurting Blaine was just the final straw. His behavior's been erratic, he's been popping pills like they're candy, he's been hooking up with a different guy every night (most of them older men). He's constantly late to rehearsals and when he's there he's belligerent. The Warblers finally stage a coup after Black & White._

_A little while after Blaine's surgery, he decides he wants to confront Sebastian directly. The New Directions come with him for moral support and they go to his house. And they find the absolute mess that is Sebastian Smythe. **Trigger warning for dub-con, underage alcohol and drug abuse, and a suicide attempt.**_

The older man's moans filled his ears; grunts and moans and curses of lust and pleasure and satisfaction while Sebastian lay there and took it. He moaned and gasped and swore right along with the man. '... what was his name again?... oh well...' He felt no pleasure, no matter how many noises escaped his lips. There was nothing there. Maybe it was the alcohol he drank before accepting the invitation back into the man's car. Maybe it was the lack of emotional connection.

When it was finally over, and the man had cum inside of the condom, he pulled out, and pressed one last, hungry kiss onto Sebastian's weak and bruised mouth. "Thanks, kid," he muttered, grabbing his wallet from the pants that had fallen to the floor. He reached inside of them, grabbed his wallet, and threw a fifty at the teenager. "Now scram. I gotta get home," he ordered harshly, popping open the door.

Sebastian grabbed up the money and scrambled out of the car, still feeling beautifully numb and painless, rushing as fast as a drugged man can to pull up his pants and cover his still half-hard manhood. He hadn't even gotten a full erection- he guessed he was just too far gone. He slipped his shirt back on, stumbling backwards a little, before walking unsteadily to his car. He didn't think twice about driving home in his state as he pulled onto the main road.

Right from early childhood, the part in Sebastian's brain that was supposed to tell right from wrong never really worked right. Of course, he never realized this, but others around him always told him that something was wrong with him. That he needed to be fixed. That he was constantly wrong, left and right. That he was terrible and bad.

Being told all of those things made a kid feel pretty worthless.

Miraculously, he returned to Dalton Academy without killing himself or anybody else, or getting pulled over. He stumbled out into the chilled night, almost falling into the car he parked a little too close to, before regaining his balance and sliding slowly out into the open parking lot. He entered the building, trying to be quiet so he didn't wake up any snoozing students while heading towards his dorm that he shared with some nerdy kid that tutored him in Geometry.

After fumbling a little while with his key, he managed to open the door and fall inside because where the fuck did that stupid little step come from? He groaned, picking himself up, and shut the door with a little more agitated force than he meant; the nerdy kid snorted a little while laying in bed but didn't arouse fully. Sebastian collapsed into bed, still fully-clothed and on top of the covers, and passed out a few moments later- probably from the alcohol even though he was exhausted, for he slept the whole night through, something blissful that only came when he got drunk enough to pass out.

Sebastian awoke with a groan, placing a hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright light over head. "School starts in an hour," his roommate muttered before slamming the door behind him. He groaned again at the load noise, wishing with all of his might that it would be nighttime again and he could just sleep away this stupid hangover.

After laying in bed for a long while, just laying there, he finally glanced at his clock, saw he had thirty minutes before to go get breakfast- he was starving!- before class was to begin, freaked out, and started to frantically get dressed in a dirty uniform, seeing as he had yet to do the laundry. He combed his hair to the best of his ability, grabbed his bag of text books that he hadn't used to do his homework the night before, and left.

The lights in the hallways seemed brighter and the teenagers seemed a lot louder then usual. He tried to will the headache away while rushing towards the cafeteria, but, of course, that didn't work, so he settled for coffee and a bagel. He plunked down between Thad and David, a huge chunk of bread in his mouth that he swallowed almost whole and followed down with a large gulp of scalding coffee that burned his throat beautifully on the way down into his uncomfortably empty stomach; he couldn't really remember that last time he'd actually eaten...

"Hungry much, Sebby?" Thad inquired, playing nudging his ribs with an elbow, smiling kindly. He had always taken a liking to Sebastian for some reason.

Sebastian didn't much care for the nickname, but he allowed it to slide most of the time. He needed as many Warblers on his side as possible. He merely nodded, taking another enormous bite and slurp of his food.

"You weren't at Warbler practice yesterday," David acknowledged accusingly. He took a calculating bite of his cereal. "Regionals is coming up soon and we still have no set list. What are you doing goofing off? You're our strongest voice with Blaine gone." He said the former Warbler's name with a touch of nostalgia.

His teeth clenched, which did nothing to help the pounding in his head, at the mentioning of Former Warbler Blaine Anderson. He was constantly being compared to this kid, and he wanted it to end. He knew he was better than this guy. His voice was incomparable, and these Warbler idiots couldn't seem to grasp that.

"I was busy," he snapped, his voice holding a little more anger than he'd intended. "I'll be there this evening," he muttered before stuffing the rest of the bagel into his mouth and stood up, still chewing. Downing the rest of his coffee, he threw the cup into the nearest trashcan and strode quickly across the school to his first class.

"So, you're the famous Blaine Anderson," Sebastian greeted with a charming smile, once all of the other Warblers had dispersed from surrounding Blaine. "I've heard so much about you. You've been the talk of the school ever since you left. I thought I'd never get the chance to meet you." He held out his hand to the smaller teenager. "I'm Sebastian Smythe. How about we get some coffee?"

"Sure," Blaine agreed, taking Sebastian's hand and giving it a firm shake. "Freshman?" he inquired, walking alongside the new Warbler towards the parking lot.

He frowned deeply for a moment, taking a hit to his self-esteem, before bringing the smirk back. "Do I look like a Freshman?" he bit out, his voice harsher than he had planned for it to be- but he didn't look like a young, idiotic Freshman.

"Oh, n-no," he stuttered, a little shocked by Sebastian's reaction, "I just assumed... because I didn't see you around last year-"

"I'm a Junior. I just got back home from Paris." He slung an arm around Blaine's shoulders, guiding him towards his silver Volvo.

"Paris?" Blaine sputtered in shock, his mouth gaping. "You lived in Paris?"

Sebastian's smirk grew. "For five years. Let me tell you about it..."

After bringing Blaine back to Dalton so he could retrieve his car and head home, Sebastian headed out to a new bar for the night. He fumed all the way to the place.

Kurt Hummel. Sebastian knew, the second he noticed the effeminate boy, he would hate him- and he did. He hated Kurt Hummel with a furious passion. He wanted Blaine, and, when he wanted something, he got it. There was not questioning that. Sebastian did what he had to to get what he wanted. Nothing got in his way. But this Kurt kid was so damn stubborn! Why couldn't he just accept the fact that Blaine was Sebastian's now and he couldn't stop him?

Pulling in to The Beaver Gay Bar and parking swiftly, Sebastian forcefully pulled open his glove compartment, popped four anti-depressants into his dry mouth, and chased them down with a large gulp of water. He hopped out, intent on forgetting about that stupid, fucking Hummel, and leaned against his car, waiting for the usual overly-happy feeling that came with those magic pills. When it began to set in, a smile lit his face.

Getting inside bars was easy nowadays. Bouncers no longer gave him that look of suspicion. He guessed that a year of wear and tear from pills and alcohol and sex gave him that scruffy look of twenty-five; or, perhaps, it was the air of confidence he exuded.

At the bar, he ordered a Diet Coke because, yes, he knew the side effects of mixing anti-depressants and alcohol. He wasn't stupid. Sitting on a bar stool, he looked around, checking out the men that looked single and submissive. He craved taking control- taking back that control he had such a loose grip on when he was younger. He needed to reaffirm that he was in control of him and no one could take that away.

His eyes settled on a baby-faced boy with short, shaggy brown hair and crystal blue eyes sitting on the other side of the bar, with what looked to be a straight vodka clutched in his hands; he wore a tight-fitted, stripped shirt with a black vest on top. He smirked, his eyes remaining on the boy, waiting for when he would feel his stare and look up. Eventually, he did, and his eyes met Sebastian's with interest.

Sebastian quirked a finger in a "come hither" motion and the boy- silly, naïve boy- scrambled out of his seat, around the bar, and sidled up next to Sebastian. "Hey, cutie," he purred seductively, his nails scraping lightly down the boy's exposed upper arm, he glanced down at the kid's black skinny jeans. "What's your name, pretty boy?"

"R-Robert," he stuttered, blushing, looking down at his feet and glancing back up. "And you?"

"Like it rough," Sebastian murmured in responsive, catching Robert off guard. "How about you?"

This conversation led to Robert laying on his stomach across the roomy backseat of Sebastian's car; pants strewn on the floor; Sebastian's hands around his neck, cutting off air supply; Sebastian's cock slamming roughly inside of Robert's tight little hole. Robert arched his back upwards before pushing his stomach into the seat, soundless screams of pleasure coming from his wide mouth.

"Like that, huh?" Sebastian groaned from behind gritted teeth, right beside the boy's ear. He felt powerful, totally in control, as the boy nodded frantically as best he could with firm, rough hands gripping his throat. He held the power of ending this boy's life in his hands; he felt on top of the world- unstoppable.

But he wouldn't go that far, so he backed off, allowing the boy room to gasp for sweet breath and moan and yell and groan and, "Fuck!" escaped his lips, his small hands clawing at the leather seat, searching for purchase while the man on top pounded into him relentlessly.

At the end, when each had come and Sebastian lay on top of Robert, both a sweaty mess, Sebastian suddenly felt the anti-depressants wearing off, which was not a good thing, and the tears felt like coming. He felt like breaking down, but that would ruin the moment of control- that feeling of empowerment that the sex was supposed to give him; but he just felt empty now. Empty and hopeless.

"Get out," he muttered, his voice quiet, trying desperately to not cry. 'Don't fucking cry!' he ordered himself, 'God, you are such a fucking weak baby!'

"Huh?" Robert questioned, still trying to catch his breath.

"I said," Sebastian took a breath, "Get. Out," he growled, glaring at the boy that had done absolutely nothing but he needed somewhere to place his anger and self-loathing.

Confused but compliant, the other man gathered his clothes and hurried out of the car without another word, not looking back. He slammed the door behind him.

Sebastian groaned, slamming his head into the back of the driver's seat. Tears started to fall aimlessly from his eyes.

"Worthless!" his father's voice yelled at him, pushing him back into the wall. "What is wrong with you?" He shoved the test into his face. "A 'C'? What are you, stupid?" He slapped him, like that would knock some knowledge into his little, six-year-old brain.

The only knowledge it managed to knock in was that pain equaled love and, without pain, it just wasn't love. So he was off, searching for that pain. Well, he'd found a lot of pain, but not a lot of love, he soon came to realize. But, by the time the realization had sunken in, the pain had become his sweetest addiction, so he kept chasing after the pain and heartache instead of searching for the happiness and love.

"A beer for Blaine..." Sebastian handed the curly-haired boy the brown bottle, "and a Shirley Temple for the designated driver." He smirked, handing Kurt the plastic cup. "Extra cherries," he added.

Kurt's eyes narrowed, taking the cup. Feeling possessive and a little intimidated, he grasped Blaine's unoccupied hand, threading his fingers between his.

This only edged Sebastian on, his smirk growing. "Drink up!" He clinked his own beer glass to Blaine's and downed half of it while Blaine copied him.

As the night fully closed in on them, both of the boys who were drinking were getting drunker and drunker. Their words slurred and their bodies moved erratically while they danced, Sebastian getting closer to Blaine than Kurt was comfortable with, but he stayed at the bar- much to Sebastian's liking. He got as close to Blaine as he was allowed, dancing suggestively and laughing and making suggestive remarks.

'Tonight was the night,' he kept thinking to himself. Blaine was drunker than a Irish man in a brewery and Kurt was upset about Sebastian's motives.

The way he saw this night going ended up like this: Kurt would get angry at Blaine for being so drunk and leave without him. Sebastian would come to the rescue, saying that he would drive Blaine home. He would get as far on his good side as he could while he drove, hopefully seducing the boy into having sex by the time he pulled into some deserted parking lot. Then they would get it on and he would finally have a dagger to hold to Kurt's throat- that he had gotten Blaine.

But the night didn't exactly do as planned.

"Look, Sebastian," Kurt angrily spit out the despised name. "Blaine is my boyfriend. And I don't like the way you keep trying to come onto him.

"Look, Kurt," he mocked the feminine boy. "I hate to break it to you, but here's how it's going to be. By the end of this year, the Warbler's will have a Nationals trophy and I will have Blaine snug and warm under my arm." He gave a shrug, that constant smirk still in place. "Sorry," he apologized, entirely unapologetic.

"Ooh, nice fantasy. But here's how it's actually going to go. New Directions will have the Nationals trophy, I will have Blaine, and you, my friend, will still have nothing," Kurt snapped harshly. "One day, all of this bad you throw out at other people will backfire, and you'll be left with nothing but your own sorry ass," he warned, just before his boyfriend reappeared.

This conversation with Kurt Hummel really got him thinking. And one thing that Sebastian absolutely hated to do while sober was think about reality. When sober, Sebastian was the king, and that was the end of it. But the barrier around his thoughts loosened when he got drunk or popped a few pills.

So he pardoned himself and stood to leave, Blaine flustered and confused and Kurt feeling as if he had won, and hurried out to his car. He popped open the glove compartment, his anger spiking. Kurt would not win- Kurt couldn't win. Sebastian always won- always. He grabbed at the bottle of pain-killers, gulped down three, and sat back in his seat to wait for their numbing effect.

When it came, he let down his guard and cried in the parking lot of The Lima Bean. Kurt was right. He hated it- he hated it so much that it hurt. But he was right, just like his father had been right. He would grow up to be old and alone and unloved because of everything he did now; but he couldn't stop. He needed control over his life- control over all of the lives around him. He wouldn't know what to do if he were to lose that control.

"Michael. Jackson," Sebastian stated, strutting into Warbler practice- late, as per usual. He felt extremely happy- maybe it was the five Prozacs he took this morning and the delightful conversation he had with Blaine.

Obviously, he had interrupted a debate of some sort between the Warblers and David, whom had taken over leadership when Wes had graduated. David leaned heavily on the oak desk in front of everyone, a frustrated look on his face, and there had been raised voices prior to Sebastian's intrusion.

"You're late. Again," David said, exasperated, running a hand through his short hair.

He ignored the head Warbler, standing in front of the glee club. "Regionals. I know exactly what we can do." His smirk held a touch of evil. "But... we might have to play a little... dirty."

Once he had finished laying out his plan to the intrigued high school boys, he had everyone's attention. The older boys looked shocked and the younger boys nodded along, liking the idea.

"That's insane, Sebastian! Why would we do that to an ex-Warbler?" David demanded, his eyes blown out in shock.

"Exactly! Ex-Warbler." He smirked eagerly as he continued working on winning them over. "And he stole Blaine right from under your noses. Don't you want to get back at him?" At their hesitant expressions, he continued. "C'mon, it's just a little harmless prank. It's not like we're going to really hurt him or something."

Mentally, Sebastian crossed his fingers, watching as everyone agreed, deciding that it would just be a fun little joke. Kurt would finally get what was coming to him.

The three weeks after the the duel between New Directions and the Warblers passed in a blur. The Warblers were avoiding him like the plague whenever he bothered showing up for school. He popped anti-depressants during the day to keep him going and then got drunk at some bar when nighttime came around. He would then go home with some random, older guy and let him do whatever it is he felt like doing. He was numb. He felt nothing. He couldn't stay sober and stable because then he would fully understand how totally out of control he was. As long as he stayed numb, or overly happy which let do a downfall of severe depression, or drunk, he was okay. He couldn't take a look at himself in the mirror and say, "You finally lost it all" if he just didn't acknowledge the real world.

He heard rumors, hushed voices talking about Blaine's scratched cornea and the surgery he would need to fix it. That was all his fault. Blaine had taken the slushie for Kurt and ended up needing surgery. He was so angry with himself, and sad. But he still would not admit defeat. He hadn't lost yet. Maybe he could just live the rest of his life off alcohol and pills and never loose his control.

They were out of school for one reason or another- Sebastian really didn't both paying much attention anymore- but he was in his own home instead of Dalton and that meant that the school was closed for some reason. His parents were out of town. He sat on his living room couch, staring blankly up at the white ceiling.

Love. Love was all he wanted, he thought as he swallowed one little white pill. But he had been searching for it in all of the wrong places. Two more pills. He had gone searching for control, thinking that that would bring him love, but that just brought him a lot of pain. Another pill. He was alone now. All alone, and it was all his own damn fault. Three pills forced down his aching throat.

Soon, even without him realizing it, he had emptied the bottle of anti-depressants. He knew that he had, without a doubt, overdosed, and things were getting hazy. He started to giggle a little, knowing that sooner or later he would be dead. He wondered if, perhaps, he were going insane because, fuck, he was laughing at the thought that he would no longer be breathing in a few minutes.

The doorbell rang then and he yelled, "It's unlocked!" his voice slurred from the effects the drugs were having on him. His tongue felt thick and his throat constricted uncomfortably. His heart pounded hard in his chest. He was still laughing, but tears were also forming in his eyes.

"Who leaves their door unlocked?" he heard a semi-familiar voice say from the foyer.

"Who doesn't ask who he's allowing to enter his house?" asked another very familiar voice.

"Sebastian?" another voice called, and he could have sworn that he knew that voice but he was too far gone to contemplate who it could belong to.

He would be dead soon, anyways.

Sebastian's vision began to blur but he could just make out the boyish face that bent forward to look at him. "Heeeeey, Blaine." He gave another small giggle. "I-I'm dying- isn't that precious? What a lovely way to die, overdosed on anti-depressants. The pills that are supposed to make you happy, used for a beautiful ending." More laughter. Someone screamed, another yelled to call 911. "Oh, don't bother." He was getting drowsy. "I'll finally be out of your hair..." The tears began to come harder and faster. "I'm really sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry I was such a bastard. At least I'll be dead now, and you won't have to worry." His head lolled to the side, eyes closing. Someone told him he had to stay awake, someone yelled for an ambulance. "But I'm tired..." A hand gripped his arm, shaking him slightly, but he still managed to slip into nothing, leaving the terrible life he had lived for just a short time.

"You sure you want to do this, Blaine?" Kurt inquired, looking up at the two story house that, according to Google, belonged to Ohio's State Lawyer Adrian Smythe and family. "You don't have to... If the bastard wants to apologize, then he should be coming to you- not the other way around." The two cars behind him parked in the driveway as well.

"I know, Kurt..." Blaine replied with a small sigh. "It's just... he hasn't been at school for the majority of the past four weeks, according to the Warblers, and..."

"Don't tell me you're worried about him." He looked his boyfriend square in the eye, the other still covered with an eye patch so it had time to heal. "You could have lost all sight in your right eye, Blaine."

Blaine looked right back at Kurt. "I know... but people make mistakes- some bigger than others. And if we don't learn to forgive and forget, then we won't ever move forward." He thought back to before he started boxing, when he had serious anger issues; some people that he'd hurt had given him a second chance- others hadn't. He knew how much it hurt not to be allowed another try. "People mess up. But they still deserve a second chance."

Kurt's eyes softened and he took the boy's hand. "You're too sweet, Blaine." He placed a small kiss on his lips, lingering there for a few seconds. He pulled back eventually and unlocked the car. He hoped out and glanced back to see the rest of the Glee club getting out of their vehicles as well.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Santana muttered angrily, glaring at the front door everyone stood in front of.

"No one said you had to come, Santana," Quinn pointed out, glancing at the dark girl.

Santana glanced at her, her anger diminishing a little as Brittany folded her hand into hers.

Blaine knocked, ignoring the chitchat going on behind him.

"It's unlocked!" yelled a slurred voice from inside, causing everyone to look at each other with a mixture of wonder and confusion.

Hesitantly, Blaine turned the knob and slipped the door open. He glanced around the hallway leading into the house, wondering where Sebastian was as he cautiously walked forward, followed by the rest of New Directions.

"Who leaves their door unlocked?" Kurt inquired, looking at one picture of Sebastian in a pair of jeans and a very puffy, white shirt, in front of some building in what he guessed was Paris.

"Who doesn't ask who he's allowing to enter his house?" Santana muttered, following Brittany's lead inside of the house.

"Sebastian?" Blaine called out, glancing into one doorway to find a living room. He saw the top of Sebastian's head above the back of the couch and walked towards him with long, purposeful strides. He gasped as he finally stood before the boy, bending over slightly to get a better look.

Sebastian looked like complete and utter crap. He had black bags beneath his slitted eyes, with one eye badly bruised; another bruise covered his right cheek and two hand-shaped bruises colored his neck a dull yellow; and he looked extremely pale but oddly at peace. He was also laughing a lot.

"Heeeeey, Blaine. I-I'm dying- isn't that precious? What a lovely way to die, overdosed on anti-depressants. The pills that are supposed to make you happy, used for a beautiful ending," he informed Blaine, a large smile across his face, laughing delightedly.

Rachel screamed and Kurt yelled for Finn to call the police, which he quickly complied to with wide eyes. Tina plucked up the empty bottle of pills from the couch, looking at it with her mouth hung open.

"Oh, don't bother." Sebastian's eyes slipped closed for a moment before he forced them open again. "I'll finally be out of your hair..." Suddenly, he stopped laughing and tears appeared out of nowhere. "I'm really sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry I was such a bastard. At least I'll be dead now, and you won't have to worry." His head lolled to the side, eyes drooping lazily.

"No, no, no, Sebastian, don't go to sleep." Blaine had slipped onto the couch, his eyes wide and frantic. Finn yelled at the 911 Operator that they needed an ambulance, though it sounded so distant in his ears.

"But I'm tired..." Sebastian's breathing slowed, his muscles relaxing.

Blaine grabbed his arm, sharking him gently, trying to get him to stay awake. "No, Sebastian, no. It isn't supposed to end this way- it isn't going to end this way." Tears suddenly clotted in his eyes. "You don't deserve to die, Sebastian."

Sebastian woke up the second they had him loaded into the ambulance. He rolled over, dry-heaved for a second, and threw up violently into a metal bin one paramedic held up to his mouth. The other men were rushing around frantically, doing a lot of things that confused Blaine. He still held Kurt's hand who stood just outside the ambulance.

"We'll be there right behind you," Kurt assured, releasing his boyfriend's hand. "He'll be okay," he assured, doing his best to smile reassuringly before the doors were shut.

"W-What's going on?" Sebastian asked, his voice hoarse, looking around with half-lidded eyes. He sounded scared and confused.

One man leaned over him, a flashlight pointed in his eyes, as the vehicle took off, jostling Blaine. "Hey, kid, do you remember your name?"

Blaine was beginning to cry again and feel slightly nauseous. He felt so lost and he really wanted Kurt back beside him, finding him, whispering to him that everything was okay- that Sebastian was going to be okay. He collapsed onto a little bench, head in his hands, wishing that he could have gotten to the boy before the pills had left the little bottle; wishing and hoping and fucking praying, for God's sake, that Sebastian was going to be okay and live to see tomorrow and learn that suicide isn't the answer, because there was no time machine that he could take back in time.

"Tired," he muttered, his eyes closing quick and turning from the sudden, bright light. He drifted quickly back to sleep.

"What happened?" one paramedic asked Blaine, kneeling in front of him. He was calm and composed- the polar opposite of Blaine who was on the verge of a major meltdown.

"He-He overdosed on Prozac," he managed through his tears, looking into the man's eyes for some kind of reassurance. He found only pity- and, if there was one thing that Blaine hated, it was pity.

"The doctors will do their best, kid."

The waiting room of Westerville Mercy Medical was filled with worried teens. In the light of all that had occurred in such a short time, it had slipped their minds that they were supposed to be upset with Sebastian. Some sat in a mourning silence; a few cried openly; some chatted softly amongst themselves, trying to take their minds off the tragic event.

"Should we get in contact with his parents?" Kurt asked, his voice hushed. One arm held Blaine close to his side, the other scratched the leg of his pants nervously.

"How would we do that? None of us have their numbers or know where they are," Noah Puckerman snapped, seemingly angered by everything that was going on. "Much less who they are. What do we even know about Sebastian?" He was fuming slightly and Quinn put a soft hand on his arm, attempting to give him some kind of comfort.

The people that were paying attention to Kurt and Puck's conversation looked at him oddly, wondering what had got him so worked up. Sure, they were all feeling downtrodden by the mishap, but why was he getting angry?

"Well, perhaps we should try to find out," Kurt offered, trying to make his voice soothing so as to not edge Puck on.

Puck glared momentarily at the teenager before standing up and hurriedly exiting the building, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. Quinn stood up, glanced at everyone swiftly, before following her ex-boyfriend outside.

"What's up with him?" Mercedes voiced the question on everyone's mind and only received shrugs. "Alright... how about we contact a Warbler? One of them must have a little more information on Sebastian."

"What's going on, Noah? Why are you getting so angry?" Quinn asked, her voice soft. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to give him what little comfort she thought he'd accept.

Her and Noah stood beside the small fountain just outside the hospital, in the middle of the roundabout where cars could drop off and pick up loved ones at the main entrance. She looked up at the boy with the thinning Mohawk, concern gracing her pretty face. He tried keeping his eyes from those beautiful green orbs that glowed with a sunshine from within- the ones and the soul within that he still loved so much. A word refused to pass his lips- his breathing labored.

Understanding suddenly dawned on Quinn. "Sandra," she guessed and, by the way Noah's face crumpled in anguish, she had guessed right. "Oh, Noah..." She gripped his arm a little tighter, wordlessly urging him to take advantage of the comfort she was offering.

Still reluctant, he silently wrapped his arms around the girl's tiny waist.

All he could hear in his head was crying and screaming and breaking and the noises sounding off that only he could hear were complete chaos. He could see Sandra, clear as day, a young girl of only fourteen, hanging from a banister in the living room. He had been the one to find her on that dreaded morning in mid-September; he could remember her pale, lifeless face like what he had for breakfast that morning.

Giving in, he buried his face into Quinn's neck. He sobbed a few times- tears never came, just a few, heavy dry heaves that racked his body with their severity, and then he calmed. "It's just... all a little too familiar... and too unfamiliar," he explained, trying his best to get across all that he was feeling right then and there.

She frowned, confused, holding Noah's built body close to her, stroking his back with a dainty hand. "I... I'm not quite sure what you mean," she murmured, her voice low.

"It's just... well, there wasn't the time to get Sandra to the hospital. She was dead on the spot. I'm jealous that-that we got to Sebastian in time and angry that I couldn't get to my own older sister in time- angry that I wasn't there for her enough to begin with so she didn't feel like the only way out was ending her own life." He gritted his teeth, breaking away from Quinn. "Dammit. Why didn't I see what has happening? Why didn't I notice that something was wrong with her?" He ran a rough hand through his Mohawk, walking away from the blonde girl.

"You were only nine, Noah. You weren't expected to have done anything-"

"I know!" he shouted, frustration clear in his voice, turning back around to face her. "I know... I just... I should have done something," he muttered regretfully, looking down into the fountain. He looked at the millions of shiny pennies, wondering if all of those wishes were for loved ones to get better. "I just... I wish she was still here, sometimes, ya know?" He awkwardly slung his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

"No one has any idea of how to get in contact with his parents?" Blaine asked into his phone, his voice incredulous. There was a collective shout of 'no's' from the Warblers on the other end. He sighed. "Alright... thank you anyways."

"Wait!" David shouted before he could end the call. "You still haven't said why you need to know so badly," he pointed out, curiosity in his voice. "Are you pressing charges after all?" he asked, his voice quieting with guilt.

"No- guys, I told you, I'm not going to press charges," he reaffirmed, his throat closing a little because he wasn't even sure if he was ever going to speak to Sebastian again- let alone have the opportunity to press charges against him, which he would have never done anyways.

As the front doors swung open, some of the glee kids turned to see Quinn and Puck reenter the room. Puck seemed to have calmed down but he looked a little off. They sat down in their seats and resumed a hushed conversation.

"Then what's going on?" David asked, with a few voices of agreement from the other teenage, prep-school boys.

Blaine glanced around at everyone, wondering what he should say. "It's a long story..." he finally replied and an unnerving feeling clenched at his heart- besides, this definitely wasn't his secret to tell. He wasn't exactly fluent on the the act of suicide and the emotions behind it, but he knew that it probably wasn't something people wanted to just throw around like catching the flu.

A doctor in a long, white overcoat came in from a double door that swung in and out a few times before settling. He glanced at his clipboard, then up at the roomful of teenagers. "Smythe family?" he asked, checking left and right for some sign of an adult figure.

"I gotta go," Blaine muttered, shutting his phone before David could say anything else. He would worry about him later. Right now, he needed to worry about Sebastian.

New Directions stood, walking forward briskly, trying not to overload the doctor with their worry. Blaine made his way eagerly to the front, Kurt right by his side.

"Are you Sebastian's parents?" the doctor asked, confusion clear in his voice as he noted the connection of hands hung between the two boys. "You two look a little young..."

"We're friends of his. We found him," Kurt hurried to explain, seeing as Blaine was gaping like a fish out of water- unsure of what to say now that he was faced with a doctor who might hold Sebastian's life in his hand. "How is he?"

The doctor looked slightly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, kid. I can't disclose information like this without parental consent. Are his parents here?" He glanced around again, wondering if someone might appear out of thin air.

Blaine deflated even more, as did some of the other teens; a few looked a little angry. "We haven't been able to contact them," Kurt explained. "Please- we're worried sick, can we please know that he's at least alive?" At the hesitation still clear on the doctor's face, Kurt pushed a little more, "Please?" his voice broke a little this time.

The man sighed, giving in. "He's alive, for now, but we really need an adult here- preferably one related to Mr. Smythe." He dug into his lab coat and pulled out a slim iPhone 4G. "Here's his cell- get into contact with someone. We have paperwork that needs to be filled out before Mr. Smythe can be lawfully admitted into the hospital." He placed the phone into Kurt's outstretched palm and the clipboard into another. "Fill out what you can." He proceeded to reenter the same door he came from, leaving the teens in a stunned silence.

For now. The two small words rang in their heads like a gong. For now meant he was alive, but could be dead in a few minutes- seconds even. For now meant he wasn't yet out of the woods. For now meant that there was hope, but so little that it hurt everyone of the people standing in that room to even think about that tiny sliver of hope. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed to dim by the second.

Kurt was the first to recover, turning around and pushing through the crowd. "I'm going to call his parents." He thrust the clipboard into Finn's stomach, knocking the tall teen out of his shock. "Sit down with Blaine and fill out whatever you can." He trotted outside, deep breath in, deep breath out, trying to remain calm when he felt like crying or throwing up- or both.

Though Kurt tried his hardest to be the strong one in most situations- and he did succeed half of the time- he wasn't actually that strong on the inside. He knew that someone had to be strong and, if no one could, then he would fake it. That's what he had been doing- or, at least, trying to do- but he was beginning to feel a little overcome.

Not thirty minutes ago he had walked in on a person who had overdosed on drugs and was teasing death. He wasn't sure what the reaction to something like that should be, but he was having a hard time feeling it, while trying to remain strong. It's kind of like the emotions he wanted to feel- the sadness, the grief, the loss- just kind of slipped through him. Until now. Now, everything hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt dizzy. He leaned one shoulder against the brick wall, arms wrapped around his chest, trying to literally hold himself together. He breathed carefully, attempting to clear his suddenly frazzled mind.

Once he had managed to pull himself together, the constant reminder on his brain that Sebastian needed him to not break down, he turned on the cellular device, thanking god it wasn't locked. He flipped through the contacts, stopping at the one titled mom and warily hit call.

"Sebastian, what on earth are you calling for? I'm on vacation." a feminine voice answered after the third ring, irritation clear in her voice.

Kurt was silenced for a moment, shocked by the not-so-lovely greeting. "Um... Mrs. Smythe?" he inquired, hesitant and even more unsure than he already had been. "This is a friend of Sebastian's. He's... he's in the hospital."

Mrs. Smythe sighs in annoyance and Kurt can almost hear her rolling her eyes. "What has that damned boy gotten himself into this time? Something to do with alcohol and all of those damn pills he's been eating up like candy, right?" She gave a harsh chuckle. "Whatever. Let the hospital do as they wish." She hangs up, leaving a stunned Kurt to listen to the harsh silence.

"Your call has ended," came the robotic voice to knock him back into the present.

He pulled the phone down to look at the home screen. The background picture was one of Sebastian, standing beside a kind-looking woman. She looked to be around her mid-twenties with short, black, Ellen Degeneres hair. The girl smiled like she had been laughing at the time the picture was taken.

Kurt clicked back into the contacts, wondering if there was any clue as to who that girl was and what her number happened to be. He scrolled slowly, checking the images of people beside their names to find one labeled 'My Crazy Aunt Rebecca' with the same laughing girl as in the picture. He hit call, hoping for a better response. They needed someone related to Sebastian and this girl seemed like his best bet.

"Good evening, Sebastian-kun," greeted a friendly voice, bright and breathless. "Caught me at a rough time. Just got back from a mile run." She puffed air in and out quickly, trying to catch it.

This seemed promising, but he was slightly confused by the '-kun' tacked on to the end of her nephew's name. "Um... Sebastian's aunt?" he inquired, sounding horribly illiterate in his own ears.

"Yes?" she uttered, surprised not to hear her nephew on the other end of the line. "Where's Sebastian? Is he okay?" Concern filled her voice.

"No... he's not exactly okay... He's in the hospital-"

"Which one?"

"Westerville Mercy Medical."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Sebastian's "Crazy Aunt Rebecca" was indeed there in ten minutes- perhaps less, but no one was really keeping track of time. She burst through the doors at a light jog, her hair matted with sweat and her face flushed a deep red, with a short blonde girl following at her heels.

"Where's Kurt?" she asked, looking around at all of the teenagers. Seeing Kurt beginning to stand, she hurried over and embraced him, her arms shaking a little but they were firm and strong. "Thank you so much for calling me."

Kurt, bewildered by the sudden closeness, patted her back awkwardly. "No problem," he muttered, glad that they had a concerned adult here now to take charge so he could have a little breather. "Um, we have some paperwork that needs to be filled out so Sebastian can fully be admitted into the hospital," he explained, wriggling gently out of the woman's grip and taking the clipboard of paper from his boyfriend.

Rebecca automatically grabbed the object. She removed the pen, clicking it against her thigh as she passed in the middle of the large room, carefully avoiding any furniture in her way. The other woman sat in the unoccupied seat to Kurt's right with a sigh, plopping a large duffel bag onto the floor at her feet.

Kurt sat back down and glanced at the blonde. "And you are?" he inquired politely, his arm wrapping around Blaine's shoulders once again.

"Oh, forgive me, I'm Ingrid- Rebecca's, um..." She thought about something for a moment. "Rebecca's partner," she concluded, seeming satisfied.

Kurt nodded in understanding. Ohio was not a place where same-sex marriages were acknowledged. He knew this from Rachel, who always explained that her and her dads always had the hardest time with no one even acknowledging that they had married in New Hampshire.

"You're her partner in crime? Cool," Brittany piped up, flitting across the room to sit on the coffee table in front of Ingrid. She smiled excitedly and turned around to motion Santana over.

The girl rolled her eyes but still moved to sit next to her friend.

While they waited for news on Sebastian, they listened to Ingrid's made-up stories of fake battles that she and Rebecca had fought and one. It was a nice distraction, although silly, but Brittany seemed to be happy- and it was almost like having the childish girl happy made everyone's mood lift.

"Do we have an adult now?" Everyone jumped, not having realized that Sebastian's doctor had returned with a small smile on his face. Smiling meant good news, right? Or did it mean really bad news and he was trying to break it to them gently?

Rebecca rushed over to the man, handing him the completed paperwork. "Yes indeedy- I'm Rebecca Smythe, Sebastian's aunt," she explained hurriedly, concern on her face. "How is he?"

Suddenly, the doctor's face grew serious. "I'm Doctor Hutchins," he informed her. "Well, we had to pump his stomach to get the medication out and he should be fine but we need him to stay overnight so we can keep an eye on him. He's not completely out of the woods just yet because there is still the possibility that the drugs are destroying his liver and he might need a transplant," he explained, checking over the information on the sheets before him. "He's still sedated but you may see him now- only two at a time so it isn't too crowded if we need to get in there." He eyed everyone. "I assume you'll be going first?"

Blaine had begun to cry again, overcome with relief that Sebastian was okay. He'd been hoping and hoping and hoping and he had not even listened to the doctor saying that he wasn't out of the woods just yet- Sebastian was alive!

"Definitely," Rebecca nodded, glancing back at Kurt and Blaine. "You boys can go next because I'm assuming you two are pretty close to Sebastian." She smiled, holding her hand out to Ingrid. "I'm so glad Sebastian has such great friends." She parted on that note, following the doctor through another door and into the larger part of the hospital where the patients' rooms were kept.

Friends- the word struck something in most of New Directions. They were here, worried about and crying over a boy that they didn't even consider a friend- more like an enemy. Had that changed? What were their feelings on Sebastian now? The worst part was, if Sebastian had had them as friends, maybe he wouldn't have done something like this.

"This isn't our fault though," Puck piped up, his voice tinted with anger once again. "I mean, he's the one that started everything. It's his own damn fault that he made everyone so angry at him- and we even tried to make peace with him during Black and White!"

This time it was Mercedes who placed a comforting hand on Puck's shoulder. "No need to go about getting angry again, Puck," she said in a quiet but firm voice, but she knew that Puck was right.

"Well, what does this mean? Do we go check on him or do we just leave? I mean, he's alive now- what more can we do?" Santana asked, directing her question at Kurt.

Blaine stood, sobering up real fast. "We can't do that!" he shouted. "We may not be the best of friends but we can't just leave him after he... after he-"

"Kicked the bucket?" Puck interjected, seeing as Blaine didn't didn't seem able to say it out loud.

He winced at the vulgarity of it. "Yeah. That. I mean, no one was there for him before, so why would it make anything better for no one to be there for him now?" he rambled, trying to put his jumbled thoughts into coherent words.

Everyone was more than shocked to see Blaine, the boy that Sebastian himself had put into the hospital, standing up for said boy. Why was it that Blaine was capable of forgiving Sebastian when everyone else seemed so willing to cling on to their hatred of him?

"Blaine... he put you into the hospital. You could have been blind in one eye because of him. Why are you so willing to forgive him after all that he's done?" Rachel pointed out, bewildered.

"Look, I know, okay? I know what he did." He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they blazed with determination. "But... what good is it to hold a grudge? How's it going to help me? Being angry at people... it either wears me down or the anger just builds and builds and builds until I snap." He thought back to the anger he had kept bottled up when he was bullied at his old school that he learned to release through boxing. "So I'd rather forgive, forget, and move on." He looked down at his boyfriend, hoping he would stick with him and forgive Sebastian as well.

Kurt took the cue to stand and take his boyfriend's hand. He placed a small kiss to his cheek. "You're so strong, sweetie. I'm so proud of you," he said, just loud enough for Blaine to hear. He knew how much Blaine loved hearing that he was proud of him.

He swelled at the praise, smiling brightly.

At first, it was a little awkward being in the room with a guy that was stuck in a coma. Sebastian was quiet, the rise and fall of his chest barely visible. He looked pale- far too pale with deep, deep purple shadows beneath his eyes. The bruises on his face and neck sticking out grotesquely against the deathly white of his skin.

Blaine stood in shock beside the door because, well, he had given a good talk out in the waiting room, but this was different- being faced with the actual thing. His courage ran away screaming with its tail stuck between its legs.

Kurt took the initiative, stepping carefully around Blaine and sidling up to the hospital bed. Hesitant but gentle, he brushed Sebastian's matted hair away from his eyes, off to the side. "Everyone's waiting for you to get better, Sebastian- well, New Directions and your aunt, but I'm sure the Warblers would be here if they knew what was going on. We weren't sure if you wanted them to know, so we didn't say anything," he informed the unconscious boy, speaking as if he was having just a normal, everyday conversation.

Comforted by his boyfriend's serenity and levelheadedness, Blaine strode forward to stand beside him, taking Sebastian's limp hand. "Get... get better soon. We need you back, Sebastian," he murmured softly, unsure of anything else he could say. He wasn't really sure if there was anything else to say.

They stood beside each other in comfortable silence, just gazing down at the haunted look on the broken boy's face. People always said that you looked peaceful while asleep, but Sebastian looked the exact opposite- like only death would bring him peace.

"You know," Kurt broke the quiet, "talking to people in a coma- or unconscious- can help them wake up a little easier." He glanced down at the floor and then back at Sebastian. "O-or at least, that's what I've heard."

Blaine gripped his hand a little tighter, using his thumb to stroke the top soothingly. Somewhere, deep in his gut, he knew that Kurt was thinking about his dad, stuck in a coma after his heart attack, unsure if he would wake up. "He's going to wake up," he said, his voice confident and strong.

Sure enough, Sebastian stirred mere minutes later and everything seemed to slowed down while the two fully-conscious boys sped up. Blaine grabbed onto his hand, muttering, "Sebastian? It's okay, you can wake up, everything's okay," soothingly. Kurt pressed the call button, desperate for a nurse, his eyes wide and unsure and hopeful.

In walked the doctor and two nurse, whom immediately sprung into action. One tall, plump nurse with short hair ushered them outside, muttering something about how they could come back a little later and they needed to check for any serious damage now that he was awake.

Once they were suitably calmed down, Kurt and Blaine returned to the waiting room. Everyone glanced up, asking how he was doing, and they reported that he had woken up but they weren't exactly sure how well he as actually doing.

So they waited in a tense silence. Everyone was caught in their own mind, thinking about everything and hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

"How could you do this?" Sebastian quietly fumed, his eyes shut tight, trying to block out the world with very little success. "How could you possibly think this was a good idea?" He was trying desperately not to get too angry, but it was impossible because his aunt had just informed him that he was being taken away from his parents and put under her custody.

Sure, he hated his parents most of the time, and he sometimes wished that they would die on one of those nights when they stupidly drove home while impossibly drunk, but he was used to that. That was normal. He knew how to deal with parents that were never there and didn't give a rat's ass about him. He knew how to cope with that and he knew what to expect. He didn't want to learn something different.

Control. Control. Control.

"Sebastian-kun..." his aunt whispered affectionately, understanding clear in her voice. "I know this will probably be hard, but... Anata, look at me and tell me that you don't think what you're parents have been doing is anything other than neglect."

Sebastian was always putty in his Aunt Rebecca's hands whenever she used those silly, Japanese terms ('anata' meant darling in Japanese), and glanced up at her. "I-I know..." he finally relinquished. "I just... I just don't want everything to change. I'm used to my parents- I've learned to work around the way they are. I don't want to learn something different."

Control. Control. Control.

Rebecca nodded her head knowingly, but her face suddenly fell from that obviously-forced look of serenity. "What happened, Sebastian? I... I don't understand what happened during the last month since I saw you that would drive you to do something like this..." she murmured, her voice breaking ever-so-slightly, trying to remain calm. "I had thought you were getting better... Was it your mom? Has she been acting up again?"

"No... she's been taking her pills and seeing her therapist... I just don't want to talk about it," he said in response, his eyes falling closed again as he slid further into his uncomfortable hospital bed. He needed that control back and he wouldn't get it by spewing his guts to his aunt; his walls shot up again.

Control. Control. Control.

"When do I get out of here?" he inquired before Rebecca could carry on the conversation, sounding bored and a million miles away from his body. "It reeks of death and Uncle Edwardo's bathroom," he complained. Uncle Edwardo had a thing for keeping his bathroom squeaky clean.

If not for the severe bruising and utter death-like paleness Sebastian had take on, Rebecca might have believed that he was still in one piece. But she knew something had to be going on, or else he wouldn't be hooked up to an IV at that moment in a hospital.

"The doctor says that you will need to be put under evaluation for at least three days at my home or in a maximum security psychiatric hospital, that's your choice, because, well, you attempted suicide, Sebastian. We need to make sure that you aren't going to try again," she explained, fiddling with the bed sheet.

"What?!" he shouted in protest, his eyes flying open. "Evaluation?! Maximum security?! It wasn't even a suicide attempt- I just took a few too many pills than I had intended and I had a bad reaction- it's not like I meant to, it just sort of happened!" he explained defensively, throwing his arms in the air. The needle in his skin tugged uncomfortably.

"Anata, you shouldn't have been taking the pills in the first place," she points out, gently putting a hand on his arm to bring it back down onto the bed. "Something's going on in your head and we need to figure out what it is. I want to help you, Sebastian, but I can't if you don't let me in. We just want you to get better and happy again."

Control. Control. Control.

"I don't need better or happy or help. I need control."


End file.
